Drawing the Line
by BookwormKiwi
Summary: Cameron and Chase just can't seem to get along any more, and what with Thirteen's keen observation skills, she makes things a little difficult for them.


A/N: Written in protest of the general Thirteen/Cameron plotlines going on: 1) Chase and Cameron fight. 2) Thirteen comforts Cameron, normally with a kiss(??) 3) Cameron has turned bisexual without telling anyone, or even herself, and this is perfectly normally.

Written for devoid49, who gave me the challenge: Write a fic where Chase and Cameron use pet names for each other.

Thanks to beta She Who Shall Go Nameless, but disclaimer for her - I didn't take all of her suggestions, so if something's wrong here, it's probably not her fault for not picking it up, but mine for ignoring her.

* * *

A hot blond caught Thirteen's eye as she stood at the nurse's station. She turned around before the doctor was lost in the crowd.

Oh. It was just Cameron.

_Just Cameron__? _another part of her said. _Mmm, I would hit that._

She shook her head and smiled, tossing the thought to the side, but keeping her eyes on Cameron's retreating figure.

"Thirteen?" Kutner came up to the desk with a handful of printed out notes. "Do you have a minute?"

"Sure," she said, dragging her eyes away from Cameron's colourful hat. "What do you want?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Cameron shut her eyes and opened them again.

_This is not happening_, she chanted, but it was. There were people everywhere, holding arms at weird angles, pressing torn up material to their wounds, crying.

Dr Ashley, a colleague of Cameron's, spotted her and wound her way around the masses to her.

"Bus crash," Dr Ashley said, steering her towards one of the more hysterical patients. She was well bloodied up, her t-shirt soaked.

"Your turn," said Ashley, almost gleefully, as she peeled off her gloves and tossed them into an overflowing trashcan.

"Gee, thanks," Cameron said dryly, envious that Ashley was going home already, despite knowing she had been here all night.

"Sorry," Ashley said, not sounding sorry at all. "I better get out of here before somebody sees me."

Cameron lifted her head slightly to say goodbye, feeling a great weariness settle over her already.

With a deep breath, Cameron made herself known to the sobbing woman.

"Hey," she said soothingly, switching on her doctor voice. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Rachel Moore," she said, reaching out for her. "Moore. Have you seen my son? He's only three."

"Somebody's taking care of him, Rachel," Cameron said, more calmly than she felt. "We need to get you fixed up first, and then we can find your son."

"I need to see him," she choked out. Tears were carving paths down her red cheeks. "Please."

"Rachel, we really need to clean you up," Cameron pleaded, hoping she wouldn't have to hold her. She could probably overcome her if she needed to, but she didn't want to risk doing more damage to an already injured body part.

"I'll be as quick as I can," she promised, "but you have to co-operate."

Rachel took in a shaky breath and relaxed enough to let Cameron start examining her. Cameron was used to seeing a lot of blood, but it still worried her every time. She had to stand fairly close to Rachel to hear her answers – the ER was teeming with people, and doctors were yelling to each other to be heard above the patients.

It turned out Rachel's injuries looked far worse than they actually were – she had a number of cuts, but most were fairly shallow. She wouldn't have been surprised if she was wearing somebody else's blood which was, of course, a risk within itself.

She knew there were a dozen other patients needing attention, and had to keep reminding herself no to overlook anything. It was so different from the Diagnostics Department, where she'd had one patient a week. Here, she had about five patients, all wanting attention at the same time.

And today she had twelve.

"Alright, Ms Moore," she said, snapping her gloves and trying to sound cheerful. "I'm gonna need you to stay here and wait for one of the hospital staff to find your son. It shouldn't take long but you'll need to be patient."

"Please hurry."

Cameron spotted one of the paramedics talking to one of the surgeons, Dr Radcliffe, who moved away when Cameron appeared at her side. The paramedic looked at her enquiringly.

"Have you seen a boy, about three?" she asked quickly, pointing to Ms Moore. "That patient's son."

The look that passed over the paramedic's face told her all she needed to know.

"Dead on arrival," he said quietly. "The only kid on the bus."

Cameron breathed out slowly and wet her lips. Paramedics took death differently to the doctors, seeing it far more often, even after hurried attempts to catch the last of their lives. They weren't less affected by it, though. They just learnt to deal with it faster.

"Sorry," the paramedic murmured, and Cameron knew it wasn't about the boy, but about her looming obligation to tell the mother.

Cameron smiled bravely. "Thanks."

Her patient's agitation was increasing. Cameron could see, and the almost wondered whether it might be better to hold off the bad news a little longer. But better for who? Cameron knew the answer to that.

"Rachel?" she said as she approached reluctantly. Ms Moore sat up quickly, her desperate gaze making it harder for Cameron to spit out the words.

"They found your son," she said quietly, and her face grew so hopeful and anxious at the same time, it almost broke Cameron's heart.

"Your son, he...passed away. A the bus crash site."

Cameron had to look over her patient's shoulder to avoid her own tears. It wasn't like she'd never done this before, telling relatives the worst news they could imagine. It wasn't new to her. But this was a mother. And he was only three. Not to mention she was PMSing.

"I'm so sorry," she breathed, but was quite sure her patient hadn't heard her.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Chase sat alone at his cafeteria table. His food was getting cold (colder than it was when he bought it) and he could hear his watch ticking. Loudly. He took a long drink of water and put down his glass, a little harder than he intended.

There, he could see Cameron at the end of the lunch queue. It was getting late, so there weren't as many people in the line any more.

"I thought we said one," Chase said as soon as she came within earshot of him She hadn't even offered him a smile. Cameron clenched her jaw and sat down opposite him.

"I was busy," she said shortly. Chase picked up his fork and began stabbing at his salad.

"I thought the whole point of us eating lunch together was so we'd make _time_ in our _busy schedules_ for each other," he stressed. "Isn't that what couples are meant to do?"

"Yeah, I'm trying. There was a _bus crash_, I couldn't just leave."

Chase refused to reply, stuffing lettuce into his mouth in silence. Cameron paused, her fork halfway to her mouth.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"It's not _my _fault there are idiots on the road."

She seemed to be expecting an answer. Chase gave a haughty shrug.

"Great," she said angrily. She started slamming her cutlery on her tray. "Fine."

Without another word, she stormed off, out of the cafeteria, or at least where Chase couldn't see her.

Chase sat fuming for a while, not tasting whatever he'd picked out earlier. He glared at the nurse who dared to smile at him.

But then he sighed. When had this happened? When had this gotten so hard? She hadn't even sat down before he'd started ripping into her. There was this psychiatrist, Meg Freestone, who sometimes helped in his surgery with hypnotising some of his patients who don't like the idea of anaesthesia. He'd talked to her about it. She reckoned Chase'd just never gotten this far in a relationship before. Chase couldn't decide if that was a stepping stone of a step backwards. She told him to spend more time with Cameron.

But what was the point of making time with each other if all they were going to do was fight? They should be planning time _away _from each other.

Chase sat back in his seat. This was bad.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Cameron stared at the grog sitting at the back of the fridge. She'd always frowned at the doctors who had had little plastic cupfuls on their quiet days, but here she was. A tentative look around confirmed no-one was sharing the lounge with her. She took the bottle out and poured, just enough to cover the bottom of the cup.

Cameron paused. _What the hell_, she thought, and filled it up.

She downed it in one, desperate gulp, and then felt so guilty she almost threw it back up again. There was nothing wrong with it, though, alcohol was a legal drug just as much as caffeine was. True, caffeine made you alert and alcohol made you sleepy...

"Shit." She hurried out of the lounge, walking casually but purposefully, as if she were going somewhere important.

Not necessarily untrue. She stopped in front of the third floor coffee machine and smiled, greeting it like an old friend. There was a time – she could vaguely recall it – when she was too good for machine coffee. But then she went to med school and took her caffeine in whatever form it came.

This machine gave, undoubtedly, the least machine-coffee-like coffee – she'd tried all and settled on this one. Despite sometimes having to kick it into action, she'd come back here any time.

Slumped in the sofa against the wall, her hands wrapped around the warmth of the cup, she finally let herself cry. Tears for the mother and her baby. Because she just couldn't seem to get along with her boyfriend for more than a minute. Because she'd maybe kicked the machine a little too hard. Not to mention she was PMSing.

She sniffed – a little louder than she would have if she hadn't been alone – and tried to wipe away the tears, but only succeeded in smearing them across her face.

"Dr Cameron?" In the silence, bar the gentle whirring of the machine, Hadley's quiet voice was loud enough to startle her. House's new playthings all called her Thirteen, even Foreman, but she'd introduced herself as Remy Hadley, and Cameron thought it right to call her that. She'd never much taken a liking to the girl, but there wasn't anything particular to _dis_like about her.

"Are you...ok?"

Cameron smiled ruefully at her.

"Would you believe me if I said I was?"

Hadley smiled back and shook her head. She sat down beside Cameron, and Cameron found she was glad. She'd noticed enough about House's new team to know that Hadley kept to herself – she was a safe place to deposit her secrets.

"A three-year-old died today," she started carefully, fingering the top of her cup. "In a bus crash. And normally that stuff wouldn't bother me."

Hadley hadn't moved. Cameron was glad. She always found it hard to tell whether sympathetic nodding was genuine or not.

Tears were still leaking out, despite how much she tried to stop them.

"It's just Chase and I can't seem to tolerate being in the same room as each other anymore. I have no idea what's wrong. It's like he's not even the same person anymore."

Hadley offered her a Kleenex, which she took gratefully. It was just nice sitting with her, actually. Any time off lately was spent alone or with Chase. These days, mostly alone.

"I'm sorry," Cameron said suddenly, very aware that she hardly knew Hadley.

"No, it's ok," Hadley insisted.

"Can I buy you a coffee?" she asked Hadley, feeling she should return the favour. Hadley crinkled her nose.

"Ugh, no thanks. Not from this machine."

"Where do you get _your_ coffee from?" Cameron asked, eyebrows raised.

"The one in the cafeteria, best one in this place."

Cameron shook her head and grinned. She knew her eyes were probably red, as were her cheeks, damnit. She knew that alcohol had been a bad idea. She hoped Hadley wouldn't notice.

"We should go out sometime," Cameron said cheerfully. "Get some real coffee."

"I'd like that," Hadley smiled.

"Yeah, me too."

Without any warning at all, she found herself much closer to Hadley than she'd ever intended.

Cameron was a very accommodating person. She didn't like to make people feel uncomfortable. But there was a line. And Hadley may have just crossed it.

Cameron pulled herself away from Hadley, who immediately looked mortified.

"I'm...sorry," she said with a small forced laugh, looking as far away from Cameron's eyes as she could. "That was, uh...stupid. I'm really sorry."

She paused awkwardly for a second, then got up.

"That's...ok..." Cameron murmured after Hadley. She waited until she'd gone, and then wiped her lips with her thumb.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

They had a standing Friday night appointment, is place. Sipping his wine, Chase wondered why he hadn't thought to cancel. That would've really ruffled some feathers. She would find something nasty to say whatever _he _said.

"Why, you don't want to spend time together?" She would be outraged.

"We just don't seem to like each other anymore, love."

No. He would be civil tonight. Hold his tongue. He just hoped she'd do the same. He didn't think he'd be able to keep his resolve if Cameron started spitting at him. When he heard the key in the door, he stood up, a second wine glass in hand for her.

Cameron bustled in, looking agonised.

"Here you are, hon," Chase said, giving her her glass and a smile, which was a little forced, he had to admit.

"Thanks," she said, and took a long drink.

"Thanks," she said again. "Do I look like a lesbian?"

What? Was there even a right answer to this?

"No. Sweetie." Chase knitted his eyebrows. "What's this about?"

Cameron dropped her bag by his coffee table and fell onto his sofa, frowning.

"House's new girl, Hadley, she tried to kiss me."

"_Really_?" God, Chase, was that jealousy?

"Did you know she was gay?" Cameron asked, and he shook his head, taking the seat next to her.

"Are you sure?" he had to ask, and she gave him a withering look.

"No, Rob, she just fell in such a way I was able to taste her last coffee."

"Too much information..."

Cameron grinned into her glass.

"Should I beat her up?" Chase joked, and Cameron looked positively alarmed. "Just to remind her to keep her hands off."

"And her tongue," Cameron quipped. Chase leant down and gave her a kiss.

"My turn to cook," he said. "What do you want?"

"It's not your turn," she said, surprised, but he shrugged.

"I don't mind," he said placidly, and she stared up at him for so long, he started shuffling on his feet, waiting for an answer.

"I really do love you, you know," she said finally, causing him to break into a smile.

"Yeah," he said, watching her face mirror his. "Me too, love."

* * *

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